First Days
by WaitToYouSeeMeSmile
Summary: She put on the necklace, the lucky horseshoe. Remembered how much Rosaline had valued that necklace for years before handing it to her. Forever loved by her dead sister. Those were the last words before they found her bleeding out in the bathtub a day later. TW: Self harm, suicide


A/N:

The intro is the same as the previous story I posted, Letting Go, but mainly because this is focused all on JJ and her experiences with first days her sister missed. it is nothing like the previous story. A few "First Days" JJ experiences without her sister, and her struggles with her new life.

* * *

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her wavy hair and blue eyes. She was beginning to look so much like her older sister. She knew it hurt her parents to look at her, seeing the reflection of the daughter they would never see older than 17. She walked into the hallway, looked towards the door at the end of the hall. The silence echoing a painful vibe throughout the house. It had been silent in the house since that day. She could turn her music up as loudly as she liked, but it was still so painfully silent.

 _«Here, Jen, take this» Rosaline handed her the necklace of a horseshoe. The one Jennifer had been secretly admiring for years. The rain was beating on the windows as she looked up at her older sister. She was so indescribably beautiful, with her long blonde hair, her tall and slim body, and with such a kind smile. Her eyes were blood shot. But Jennifer didn't notice that. She was too busy accepting the necklace. Her sister sat down on her knees to help her close it around her neck. She placed a hand on her little sister's cheek. "No matter what happens, remember I love you more than anything" Jennifer looked at Rosaline slightly puzzled. Rosaline kissed her forehead before standing back up, leaving the room quietly._

Jennifer touched the necklace around her neck, as it rested so peacefully at her chest. She walked over to the bathroom-door, and cracked it open slowly. It had been three years since the day of Rosaline's death. Today was her first day of high school, and today three years ago should have been Rosaline's first day of her senior year. Her perfect big sister, who was successful in every aspect. Beautiful and smart. Loved by everyone. Her funeral had been so full, that the people in the back had no chance of hearing the ceremony. 600 people had turned up. Her mother had cried for days on end. Her dad never spoke a word about it after that day. It was like a light had left his eyes.

 _"Ros, come on! I need to use the bathroom, you have been in there for ages!" Sinead O'Connor was playing on repeat behind the locked door. "Dad! Rosaline won't let me use the bathroom!" Jennifer yelled down the stairs. Her father muttered for them to stop bickering. Jennifer kept knocking on the door, hearing no answer on the other side. Water was starting to come from under the door, soaking Jennifer's socks. "Great" Jennifer muttered under her breath, as she started to walk downstairs to tell on her sister to their parents._

 _"Mum, Rosaline is messing about in the bathroom. I need to get my stuff, or I will be late for school," she grabbed a muffin from the plate down on the counter in the kitchen. "What's that?" her mother gestured to the footprints her daughter had left on the white carpet leading into the kitchen. Her father stood up and looked at the prints. They all just stood there dumbstruck, unable to react properly to what they were seeing. Then her father jumped on the spot, sprinting out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Jennifer and her mum followed swiftly._

 _"Rosaline, open the door!" her dad was screaming now, the panic present in every movement he made. He rustled the door like Jennifer had been doing for the past thirty minutes. The water was now soaking the floor around them. "Get in there now George, you need to open that door, what is going on!?" her mother was crying as her father jumped into the door in an attempt to break it open_.

Every day that passed, she thought of her sister. Everything reminded her of Rosaline, of that day. Of that week. Of that year. She kept thinking if only. If only she had said something when Rosaline came into her room that night, if only she had told her parents earlier, if only she had taken more notice of her sister and her bloodshot eyes. Fourteen-year-old Jennifer dried the tear from her eyes as she walked into the bathroom. The tiles were the same. They were no longer covered in crimson red, but the cracks still exposed the truth about what had happened merely three years earlier. She bent down in front of the tub. Touching the inside of the tub, where her sister's ruined body had been lying that day. Blood dripping from her wrists, her eyes forever staring at her with such agony. The scream that had escaped her mother as they finally got into the bathroom. Seeing her father pull her sister's body up to his. Her lifeless body, her head dropping, her eyes staring directly at her, wide open. Jennifer placed her hand on the necklace. She was so happy when her sister had given it to her that night. But at what cost? The sight of the blood, her body so limply being lifted out of the tub, the smell of rotten blood; the iron and rust. These memories would never leave her. She hadn't cried. The shock had hit her too hard. She was unable to accept what had happened that day. What she had seen. Now it felt almost like Rosaline had been part of her imagination. Their lives had continued like nothing. The silence was still there. No one entered her room, there was never any yelling or screaming between the two young girls, and the bathroom was never occupied. But at what cost, Jennifer thought as she stood up and walked over to the sink. At what cost.

* * *

She looked in the mirror. At her long wavy hair. Everyone always commented on how much she reminded them of Rosaline. How she was growing into a beautiful younger version of her older sister. Jennifer grabbed her long hair, and the pair of scissors lying on the sink. She had tried to make herself do this for days. The scissor had been tempting her for weeks. To just do it. But it was so hard. Like her hair was a connection to her sister, and by cutting it, she would let her go. She wasn't ready to let her go. But she was sick of being the tiny Rosaline. She put the hair between the knives of the scissor. Clipped off her long blonde locks of hair. All of it. Her hair barely reached past her ears now. The sink was filled with her blonde strands of hair. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection not much different. She threw away the hair in the toilet, before grabbing her wallet and jumping on her bike.

At the store she grabbed a box of hair dye. She had to get Rosaline out of herself. Get her off her skin. She paid and went back home. Locked the bathroom door and became a different person.

The new color was different. It was nothing crazy, just a hazel brown, but it was enough to make her look like a different person. Like someone who might not be related to the infamous Rosaline. She couldn't stand the pain in her parent's eyes every time they looked at her. She knew she was the painful reminder of who they were missing. She pulled her hand through her now short brown hair. It suited her. She put her hand on the necklace. That part she was not ready to put away yet.

The tears burned behind her eyelids. She was a failure. She would never be what Rosaline had been. She was a disappointment to her parents. At least now they wouldn't have to see that every time they looked at her. Now she was a different person. She sank down onto the cold bathroom floor. From where she was sitting she could see the razor blade she had hidden underneath the sink. Just a release. That was all she needed. She needed a release, to air this pain and emotion she felt within her. She had to feel the pain physically, knowing nothing would ever remove the actual pain within.

She leaned over and grabbed the razor. She pulled up her soccer shorts and laid the four-bladed razor to her skin, pressed it down as she pulled it quickly across her upper thigh. Four lines of blood appeared quickly. The slight burning sensation set in as she did it again. This time above those. Across some faded and healed ones. She did it over and over again. The blood was now running slowly, dripping onto the floor. Mixed with the tears dripping from her eyes. Just like that of three years ago, blood and water mixed together. She was a failure. She couldn't even handle her life. She cut to feel the slightest bit of relief.

She took some toilet paper and put pressure to the mess she had made. Held it until it stopped bleeding. The shallow wounds were mere scratches, but the shock of infliction caused quite a lot of bleeding. The wounds were nothing compared to the gashes on her sister's wrists. The ones deep enough to hit her arteries, expose tendons, and allowed her peace of mind. Jennifer could never do that now. She knew how badly it had affected her parents, and the idea of losing their last child? She could never do that to them. And so the mess on her thighs would have to do for now. She cleaned up the blood, and pulled her shorts back down to cover the wounds.

Just as she flushed the tissues down the toilet, she heard her mother unlock the door downstairs. She stood up and looked at her new hair in the mirror one last time, before walking down to her mother.

* * *

Six years had passed. Her hair had once again grown back out, and she allowed the blonde to return. She was now the same age as Rosaline. And she could notice her parents keeping a closer hand on her than before. They always asked her about her life, if she felt the need for someone to talk to, anything to help her. Today was her first day of her senior year. The first day, the day her sister never had. She stepped out of the shower. The bathtub had been removed the year before, almost like her parents feared it would trigger her to follow in her sister's steps; like the absence would prevent her from killing herself.

The towel covered her scars up. The mess of scars on her thighs. From years of self-abuse. She put on the clean underwear she had put out, sank down to the floor like so many times before. Grabbed the razors from the floor of the shower. The extracted the blades from the razor, and took one of them and put it to the skin of her thigh. In difference to Rosaline, she found a way to deal with the pain. What pain Rosaline couldn't handle, was still unknown to everyone but Rosaline, but at least Jennifer had found a way to handle her emotions. A way to numb out the mental exhaustion, the depression, keep up the façade and be even more perfect than her sister had ever had the chance of being. Valedictorian, captain of her soccer team… she was aiming to become prom queen, and was ready to be class president too. She was going to accomplish all the things this year, her sister never had a chance to.

She cleaned up the mess, bandaged up her thigh, and looked at herself in the mirror. She put on the necklace, the lucky horseshoe. Remembered how much Rosaline had valued that necklace for years before handing it to her. Forever loved by her dead sister. Those were the last words before they found her bleeding out in the bathtub a day later.

Jennifer got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast with her parents. It was almost like a blanket of relief was lifted as she arrived downstairs. The breakfast her sister never joined all those years ago; Jennifer had now been alive for one more breakfast than Rosaline. The sense of safety washing over her parents. Knowing nothing about the hidden self-hatred and pain covering her upper thighs beneath the jeans she wore so well. The burning sensation of perfection, Jennifer thought to herself.

* * *

It was her first day of her senior year in college. Her hair was full of life, her skin radiant, but her future bleak. What was she supposed to do once this year ended? Four years earlier everything had seemed so hopeful, now she had no idea what she was supposed to go on to do. She pulled her hand through her long, wavy hair. Her bags were packed, prepared for the first day of her final year in college. The day she never expected to come. She knew it was around the corner one day, but it had always felt so far away. And now suddenly here she was. She put on her necklace like every day before this day. She went into her bedroom, grabbed the book she had spent the summer reading. This book about serial crime by an FBI agent named Rossi. It had grabbed her attention, and she had decided to read it, and today she was attending a reading on campus with the author. She put on a slight layer of makeup, almost like she was hoping to impress the author with her appearances. She straightened out her skirt, made sure it was pulled down far enough to cover her faded scars of her childhood past. Today was the first day of her senior year. A day her sister never got the chance to see.


End file.
